Spectrum
by ec-writes
Summary: Why was the first color he ever saw the blue of that Rockbell girl's eyes? / / Edwin. Soulmate AU. Revised.


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"What do you _mean_ you can't see colors?"

Alphonse blinks heavily. The light from the dying candle illuminates his large, tired eyes just enough for Ed to see.

"I dunno," he yawns. "I don't see things like red, or blue, or…. what did you say my eyes were?"

"Green," Ed mutters. "Like mom's."

Alphonse pauses before shuffling under the sheets. "Mom said _she_ didn't colors 'til she met Dad."

Edward squints. "So?"

" _So_ ," Al continues. "Maybe you have to see someone you love before you can see colors."

"Tch!" he scoffs. "You're so stupid, Al."

Al's sleepy face turns pained. "Not true!"

"Yes huh!" he teases, and Alphonse fumbles out from under the blankets, crying loudly as he runs out of the room.

Edward doesn't care if he gets into trouble, what Al said _was_ stupid. People don't just start _seeing_ colors from meeting people. Especially the ' _love_ ' part.

But still, why was the first color he ever saw the blue of that Rockbell girl's eyes?

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"Why do you always wear red now?"

Edward's heart skips a beat. He turns his head slowly, doing his best to even his breathing as he looks at Winry.

"What?" he asks, and she rolls her eyes.

"Your coat?" she says, reaching for a screw to place in his arm. "You were wearing it the last time I saw you. What's up with it?"

"I…" he begins. "I like it."

Her stare fixates on a loose wire. "Is that it?"

Edward remains quiet, choosing instead to stare absently at her. Drips of oil decorate the light color of her skin, shining iridescently as the light from the sun strikes them at just the right angle. Her hair, it's such a strange yellow, like straw, or maybe wheat? Soft, but so very bright. Sometimes it hurts to look at it.

Winry's eyes flicker to him, widening slightly in surprise as he remains focused on her. There is something in the way she looks at him, and he wonders if, maybe, he is bright to her, too.

"You see colors?" he asks.

"Yeah," she replies, letting her gaze fall back to his arm. "I think I've always been able to."

His heart begins thump so hard, he wonders if she can hear its pounding.

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He'll never admit it, but he's grown afraid to open his eyes.

Ever since the Fuhrer dared to throw her name at him, like she's some god-damned doll he can dangle over him, he's become panicked, no- terrified. What if something happens to her? What if he isn't able to protect her? What if one day he wakes up, and suddenly the world is black and white again?

He tries his best to hide his worry from Al, the Colonel, from _everyone_ , but he knows they can tell.

He is afraid of waking up to see a world without her.

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It's so damn cold.

The icy ground would have left him completely numb if the beam in his side didn't have him howling in pain.

Everything is hazy. He can barely see the red of his blood as it drips from his mouth.

Colors are bleeding into gray, and all he wants to do is close his eyes.

Yeah, just for a minute.

An hour.

A day.

Forever.

 _"You promised…"_

His eyes shoot open. The vibrancy of his blood in the snow is blinking in and out. Faded, then too bright.

" _The next time I cried, it would be tears of joy."_

Hell no. He can't— not now. Not like this.

He can't let her cry over something this stupid.

When the chimeras come, and he raises his hands to clap, he realizes something. He's been so afraid of a world without her, but how badly would it hurt her if he suddenly left hers?

Would she lose her colors, too?

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She's never looked so bright as she does now, staring at them from her doorway like they are the answers to every question she's ever had.

When she holds him and his brother close, clinging to them as though they are her lifeline, her tears of joy staining his white hoodie, but he doesn't care in the slightest. She is his source of never-ending hope, the home he longed to come back to. She is the source of color in his world, and he loves her in every way that is tender, true and terrifying.

When she looks down at him, her watery blue eyes reflecting every bit of love and warmth she holds within her, he hopes she can see just how much those same feelings reflect in his own. He hopes she can see how she's taken his destructive hands and heart and made them better.

He hopes she can see how she makes him w _hole._

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"I love you."

The words leave him easier than he ever thought possible. There is no incoherent stammering, no nerve-wracking panic, only the feeling of his heart beating in time with hers, and labored breathing from the night's endeavors. It surprises him, but not as much as it seems to surprise her.

"How long?" is all she says, her eyes wide and cheeks an intoxicating shade of pink.

"I don't know," he answers, honestly, his fingers tracing invisible patterns across her bare skin. "I don't think I can pin a moment when it finally came through to me."

She places a hand against his jaw, her head tilted slightly as she smiles at him. "When did you start seeing them?"

His brow furrows. "Hm?"

"Colors, Dummy," she laughs. "When did you start seeing colors?"

A sudden realization hits him, and he smiles, feeling his own face change in hue. "Well, when did we first meet?"

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End file.
